


Tuesday

by Eilinelithil



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Stargate Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, F/M, Time Travel, going round in circles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:47:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27316495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eilinelithil/pseuds/Eilinelithil
Summary: When you go poking around in time, you might sometimes find that it pushes back, as Nick Rush finds out… the hard way.
Relationships: Belle (Once Upon a Time)/Nicholas Rush
Kudos: 6





	Tuesday

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the October 2020 Monthly Rumbelling fic using the moodboard, though a later chapter will use the non-smut prompt, (albeit in a smutty chapter), and that's why the title of the story is as it is.
> 
> Also, this fic uses some of the events in with Given No Choice, although it is not a remix.

He could barely see for the driving rain, even with the windshield wipers flashing full tilt back and forth in front of his face. He was tired… so tired; like a man that had lived a hundred hundred years in a single lifetime.

The thought hit Nicholas Rush with the force of an exploding neutron star, and in spite of the danger of it, he slammed on the brakes, fighting the car to keep to his lane as the rain-slick tires lost grip, and eventually had their way, slamming into the side of the road to bury the hood in the bottom half of a thick hedge as the front wheels dove into a hidden ditch beneath.

“Fuck!” Rush hissed, but it came out more like ‘Fuuuuh’ as the seat belt tightened against his chest and drove out all the air from his lungs. In frustration, he slammed the palms of both hands against the steering wheel. The car had stalled of course, and despite his best efforts he could not get it to restart, but it was probably moot anyway. Front wheel drive meant he’d have no traction to pull himself out of the ditch. No. There was only one thing to do. Call for help.

A string of very colorful expletives escaped his mouth as he pulled out his cell phone and discovered he had no signal. No fucking signal. A man that had - or maybe that should be ‘would’ communicate over vast distances, across galaxies, brought low by the lack of a cell phone signal.

With a sigh, he stuffed the offending article back into his jeans pocket, and reached in back of the car for his jacket, struggling to pull it on after unfastening the seat belt, before grabbing his things from the front passenger seat and then opening up the door.

A gust of wind blew a torrent of rain into his face, and he spluttered as he stepped out of the car. The ground under foot was all mud and water, and after he slammed the car door, he hurried to get firmer footing on the black top.

He had no idea where he was, or which direction he needed to go, but he knew that he hadn’t recently passed anywhere that looked as though it had a phone he could use, so he decided that walking in the direction he’d been driving was the smart thing to do.

He was soaked within seconds, but what choice did he have? There was no guarantee that anyone would have come along - and if they were in their right mind nobody would be driving in this kind of weather. Which made him a fool.

He lost track of time, cursing with almost every step before a golden glitter of light sparkled off the falling rain; a cottage up ahead. Breathing a sigh of relief, he picked up the pace, and headed for the door.

At the first knock, he began to hear movement from inside, so he tried to wait as patiently as he could, but the cold trickle that caressed his spine beneath his sodden jacket and soaked shirt - hell, even his undershirt was sticking to him as though he were a contestant in a Miss Wet T-shirt competition - tried his patience past the limit, and he lifted his hand to knock again.

The door was opened by a small brunette, who had a shocking white stripe descending from one temple. His belly tugged at him, sending the smallest of waves lower, to center in his groin, and he covered the sensation with an apologetic cough.

“I erm… I wonder if you have a phone I could use?” he began as the blue eyes looked him up and down. “I had a wee accident further down the road and—”

She gave him a tight smile, that for some reason cut him off mid explanation, and then she stood aside.

“Why don’t you come inside,” she suggested. “I’ll find you some towels. Can’t have you standing there wet through, you’ll catch your death.” And then, as though it were the most natural thing in the world for her to say, added, “There’s a fire lit, if you want to get warm.”

He frowned slight. Her familiarity pulled at him, like and itch he couldn’t scratch, or a word on the tip of his tongue.

“Thank you,” he said absently, and started to follow the sound of the crackling wood that beckoned, warm and inviting, as was the faint aroma of cinnamon he smelled with every breath.

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

The question stopped him cold, and he turned back to look at the woman again. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” he ask, his tone bordering on cold suspicion.

The homeowner smiled sadly. “No, clearly not,” she said. “But you did… or you will… or…”

* * *

_Many Years Earlier_.

Nicholas Rush shuddered, taking a huge, uncomfortable breath as the stasis field faded, then blinked out and he slumped against the perspex door that began to lift away, rising to deposit him on the cold of the deck; his shallow breath fogged in the frigid air.

Coughing, shivering, Rush rolled onto his back, forcing his eyes open and searching through the blurred vision for something, anything, that might get him out of the deadly nature of his situation. He spotted the lone EVA suit against the glass of the last closed and functioning stasis chamber.

He reached with a hand that was fast becoming numb, grasped the ridge of the wall and began to drag himself toward it.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no,” he said as though the word were the chattering of his teeth. “Not like this… not again…”

He grimaced, his fingers aching by the time he reached the stasis chamber, wondering for a moment if he should just climb back inside, but no, he’d tried that… didn’t work out so well. _Destiny_ didn’t like him playing games with her; didn’t like him ignoring her. She wanted the slingshot - albeit for different reasons than his own, but… what she wanted, she made sure she received.

Bone weary, he activated the chamber door, somehow finding the strength to pull himself up, grab the EVA suit, and begin to pull it on. This time he’d get it right. This time he would succeed.

* * *

“So uh…” Rush blinked, and stopped mid sentence. Strange, he would have sworn this wasn’t where he was a moment earlier. Moreover, it was important he remembered, and not only that, but remembered _why_. He rand a hand over his face, and glanced down at his lecture notes. He felt suddenly hot. Quite unwell as a matter of fact.

“Doctor Rush?” a quiet accented voice, full of concern called out from the belly of the lecture hall. He knew that accent, knew it intimately, just… not here, at least… not _now_. “Are you all right?”

He pulled off his glasses and walked around to the front of the desk on the dais, perching on the edge of it, feeling somehow grounded by the hard wood drawing a line across his buttocks.

“Quite all right, thank you, Miss French.” He glanced back over his shoulder as he spoke to the chalk board that was almost completely covered in arcane equations - or at least so it looked. “I simply distracted myself with a part of the equations there.” He folded his arms. “So, what was I saying?”

He looked elsewhere for the answer, a suitably willing young sacrifice in the front row said, “You were explaining the concept of using a slingshot around a star at approaching faster than light speeds as a way to affect time.”

“Aaaah, yes,” he drew out the words sagely, and all the while his stomach flipped painfully, one hand slipping into his pocket for his phone. “The age old question. However, FTL propulsion is still theoretical.” He held out the nub end of a piece of chalk to the young man, and challenged. “Board 3. Care to come and solve it for us?”

* * *

The lecture had been eternal, or so it seemed to Rush, far too long for his comfort. He needed to speak to Gloria, needed to call her, to tell her something important, but with each passing moment, fear mounted that he was forgetting the point - the what, and the why.

In the hallway as he walked to his office, he pulled out his phone again, hitting the number one on his speed dial and listened as his house phone rang and rang, long beyond what he would expect; what he would hope.

“Doctor Rush!”

He closed his eyes, and getting no answer from home, disconnected the call. He let out a long, slow breath, and turned to face the enthusiastic young woman that was threading her way through the crowded hallways as quickly as she could, and muttering numerous apologies to those she bumped along the way.

“Miss French,” he said overly patiently. “I know you’re well aware of my office hours so—”

“This couldn’t wait,” she insisted, “It’s important. I _have_ to tell you—”

The ringing of his cell phone interrupted, and he held up a finger. “I’m sorry, but it will have to wait. I have to take this call.”

“You can’t!” she tugged on his arm, as if she were trying to stop him from lifting the phone to his ear. “You mustn’t take it. You won’t—”

“Miss French!” he caught her hand and pushed it away from him. “What the bloody hell has gotten into you!”

Instead of waiting for an answer, he opened the nearest door, uncaring whose office or seminar room he was bursting into and finally connected the call.

_"Nick, I’m sorry, I was playing and I didn’t hear the phone.”_

He couldn’t help but smile, though a part of him wondered why he had called her in the first place.

_"Are you going to be late again?”_

There was no accusatory tone in her voice, though the question could have been construed in such a way. Just the light query of a woman that knew her husband well and appreciated that he bothered to call and tell her anyway. That was Gloria; the way she was. It was why he loved her.

_"Is everything all right?”_

Startled out of his thoughts by her question he found himself out of sync, answering all wrong, though the part of his mind that had yet to fall completely into place reminded him how ironic that was.

“No. No, that is… I mean…” A humorless, almost embarrassed little chuckle escaped him and he started over. “Everything’s fine, and no, I’m not going to be late, I just…” he stopped again, trailing off. He couldn’t remember why he’d called, not for the life of him, no matter how hard he’d tried. A silence grew between them until Gloria broke it.

_"Actually I’m glad you called. There was a man… a general - Air Force pretty sure that’s what he said - and… and a Doctor. PhD of some sort. They came calling; looking for you. Um… O’Neill and… Jackson, I think they said. I told them to try the university. I hope I did the right thing.”_

He frowned again, reached for the door and stepped back out into the hallway, safe now that it seemed young Miss French had moved on. He headed for his office, still trying to think of why he’d called.

“No, no,” he assured her, “you did the right thing. If they show up here, I’ll see what they want. Gloria…?”

 _Don’t ignore it. Don’t wait, go and see someone_ now _. We have a chance to_ beat _this. I can stay and you—_

Her voice pulled him back again.

_”Nick?”_

None of the words would come. He could hear them; feel them, almost taste them in his mouth the way he would a strong cup of coffee or a good whiskey. If he could just open his mouth to speak; to tell her everything and _end_ this nightmare…

“Just… wanted to call; to hear your voice. I love you.”

They were waiting in his office, just as Gloria had told him… just as the far distant memory - another lifetime, another reality showed him they had been. Jackson was smiling and holding out a hand to greet him the moment he opened the door, the other man remained silent as only someone with military bearing ever could; awaiting his turn to announce the Stargate Program, and The Icarus Project.


End file.
